


Star-Reader

by Etched_in_Fire



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, astrologian, ul'dah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9619358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etched_in_Fire/pseuds/Etched_in_Fire
Summary: Fate does not smile upon the wicked.





	

A mellow wind carried dust and grains across the Ul’dahn streets, where the beggars lurked in the shadows of their betters. 

She was clad scantly, but not out of her own will.  It was a struggle to keep her facial expression placid under the prying eyes of the men.  Her leader had selected the garb. “Red as Dalamud”, she had said, “with the ferocity of the creature that had lurked within.”  Nanni was uncertain if her own description matched, but she donned the attire nonetheless with her chin lifted in a display of confidence.  It was an elaborate lie from a girl who had spent her childhood making drakes out of snow, hunting in the forest, and herding the goats about the frosty wildlands. 

Just as she had learned in the Coerthan north, everything had a purpose.  Each breath served to fill her lungs and sustain her; each step drew her closer to her quarry. 

He was a man past his prime, tanned from the merciless sun and bearing facial hair under the nose and only there.  His hair elsewhere had fallen out moons ago-- an unfortunate combination of genetics and rubbing his scalp fervently to express his distaste.  His name was irrelevant to her, though she was certain he thought himself notable to any who came his way.  His face had once been handsome, she was certain, but it was masked with a vileness that made her squirm inwardly.  And not in a pleasant way.

He had been marked by her faction for his corruption.  Like most denizens of Ul’dah, he had a hand in the market, though from what Nanni had heard, he had both hands, his member, and a foot somewhere in there as well.  His wares were varied; from the outside, it was a collection of household supplies.  Uttering a trail of phrases would unlock the lesser-known wares, which were obtained through illegal and brutal means.  For unlike the typical Ala Mhigan, this man had sold his own brothers to be in his current position.  He dealt in their blood, their labor, and their sacrifice-- sending them on missions that would almost certainly kill them if they were not desperate for a coin to feed themselves.  His cruelness knew little bounds, and the Order had decreed him guilty in a trial he had never even known about.

A simple assassination would have been quick and easy, but if Asami had desired only that, she would have sent another one of her pawns to do her bidding.  Nanni was trained with a spear and blade, but she was not the Death Seraph nor the Condemner.  The merchant knew a series of words that would open his vault.  From the vault, they would send their strongest to haul the gil from within, so that it could be distributed to the poor of Ul’dah.  It was a noble, albeit risky scheme, and the Flames were like to be upset at it, despite how the merchant’s death would be no great loss at all.

“Would ye like yer fortune t’be read, sire?” she inquired to the merchant walking the street in her practiced accent.  Inwardly, she pondered if she had slipped too far from commoner into pirate, but the man seemed to have been ensnared by her already.  His gaze trailed to her bosom and beneath her freckles, she flushed.

“One of those star-readers,” the Ala Mhigan considered aloud, pondering her attire with the stroke of his jutting chin. “Where are you from, lass?”

“Straigh’ off th’ boat from Limsa, sire,” she said with a smile.

“Limsa,” he repeated after her, his fingers working his mustache all the while his almond-colored eyes worked over her. “How much gil for a reading?”

“Jus’ five ‘undred, sire,” Nanni beamed, tail flitting back and forth in anticipation.  She knew his mind was drifting to something other than the cards she had been given and the phony globe that would not even spin in her palm.  Her smile was what won her his gil coupled with what was between her neck and stomach. 

Wordlessly, the incorrigible man fished a pouch of gil from his pocket, all the while motioning for her to follow him.  He showed her to his shop—a grand thing that shadowed the stalls nearby.  Under its roof, she found reprieve from the blistering sun.  The lalafellin attendant at the desk had been smoking herbs as to relieve the interior of stench of the streets.  She nearly leapt from her own skin when the owner of the store came in.  The attendant girl said nothing as they vanished into the back, though her eyes were wide and fearful.  Nanni strode by her, but shared a momentary look to the girl, who seemed miserably sunburnt.

Winding through the narrow corridors, she saw a few rooms packed with wares.  Beyond them, however, was a break area.  A few glassless windows let the blazing sun through. There was a lone table with a set of chairs and a board game of some sort that had gone unfinished.  The merchant hastily put it away, grumbling something under his breath.  She paid little heed to it, skirting her fingers over the smooth wood of a nearby chair.  Nanni took her position across from him, though not before blotting out the sunlight with the curtain.  There was no door, but a curve in the hallway separated them from the naïve lalafellin girl.  Nanni was happy she did not have to witness the crime that would transpire within the back room. 

“Is there a reason you need it to be dark?” the merchant asked suspiciously, his weight shifting.

“Fate don’t like the sun, sire,” Nanni lied quickly, the words coming out a little sloppily.  At his quirked brow, she elaborated, “It helps me focus, y’see.  Blindin’ sun’s like to ruin me concentration.”

“Well, you certainly picked the wrong city if you get bothered by the sun,” snorted the merchant and the Seeker let the comment go.  She thought to slay him then and there with the knife in her boot, but she knew he would scream if he even saw the glint of a blade.  Subtly would win the day and so she reluctantly began to look at her deck—unfinished, according to Asami, but complete enough to go along with the ruse.

She began to toy with the cards, drawing them and shuffling them.  He watched her with his burly arms folded across his chest.  As she stacked the cards, she wondered how many times he had beaten the people within his establishment.  There was muscle in those arms, and it hadn’t escaped her that the attendant had born a bruise on her left forearm.  He wondered how many times that lalafellin girl had seen other girls get taken into the back.  Maybe there was another reason her eyes had shown such horror…

“Firs’, ask a question,” Nanni said to him.  “Through the stars and such, I’ll find ye an answer.”  She was aware her accent had slipped a few times; maintaining it was harder than she had anticipated when she had begun the mission.

“I want to know what the biggest profit is and where I could find it,” the merchant said haughtily.

Nanni held up a finger. “One question at a time an’ in question form.  The stars are a picky lot.” 

“Fine,” the Ala Mhigan said with a huff. “Where can I find the biggest profit?”

She played along with it, a sly smile stretching across her painted lips.  If she was honest at that point, she had never done a reading in her life.  But here she was, faking until she eventually made it, with her heart beating zealously in her chest and her palms sweating.  She tried to brush it off as heat from the sun, but she was not so sure that the merchant was buying into her act. 

She turned over the first card.

“Ahh, Two of Staves, related the Balance,” the Seeker said with great enthusiasm in her voice.  At least Asami had taught her the names and vague meanings behind the cards before sending her on this insane quest.

His skepticism was breaking under his intrigue and the merchant leaned in. “What does that mean?” He questioned her.

“Change’ll come,” Nanni met his eye with her glittering emerald irises. “For your question, this could mean the economy is gonna shift.  New advancements an’ all that. The Two o’ Staves is like eh… think of it like the card fer pioneerin’ folk.  Adventurin’ folk.”  To this, he studied her gaze deeper and deeper.  After a moment, it was clear he was taking her words seriously and mulling through them.  She slid the card to her right, letting it rest in the middle of the table.  She was not even sure if that was proper etiquette, but her confident actions spoke for her supposed experience.

“Change… But what sort of change?” the merchant asked darkly.

“The Spire Arcana represents creation an’ destruction both.  What the stars mean by this is hard to tell.  It could mean your economy is about t’bust.  If that’s the case, ye better find another thing to sell.  Two o’ Staves… ehhh that could just mean you need to look past yer own borders for fortune.  Ye kin?” Nanni said and pulled the next card. 

“Four o’ Knives!” Nanni grinned.

Worry knotted the merchant’s brow, but the Seeker smiled amiably at him. “Don’t worry, this is the best one I coulda drawn.  It can mean good fortune for ye!  Hopelessness into prosperity! But don’t get too excited now. This card is associated t’the Arrow.  And th’ Arrow’s a life lesson sort.  It warns against making hasty, rash choices, else yer gonna suffer.  So ye got a opportunity for good fortune in the changin’ market… but ye can’t be reckless, ye hear?”

“Are you just saying that?” he asked her with reborn doubt.

“The stars said it, not me, sire,” she shrugged with feigned innocence.

“Good fortune and change… but where?  Where would I find that?” the merchant glowered into her.  He was leaning so heavily onto the tabletop that she could smell the stench of his breath.

She drew the third card and laid it down. When she saw the One of Irons staring back at her, she could not refrain from arching her brows with intrigue.  This would be a bit more difficult to spin… or would it?  The Seeker’s emerald eyes flickered from the symbol of the Fury to the hard-eyed merchant. 

“One o’ Irons, meanin’ depression,” Nanni began.

“A jolly reading,” the merchant said snidely.

“Now, now.. don’t be thinking this is all bad.  See this here?  That’s the Spear’s symbol!  And we all know the Spear’s the sign o’ Halone, worshipped by the Ishgardians.  Ye’ll find yer luck in Ishgard,” Nanni summoned up all of the confidence she had for the final card’s reading, hoping he would remain ensnared.

“That dreary tundra?” the merchant wrinkled his nose. “Unlikely.”

“Ah-ah-ahhh, remember what the stars said ‘bout makin’ rash choices?” the Seeker chided softly and the merchant seemed to reconsider.

“Ishgard’s been closed for years.  When Ala Mhigo fell, it didn’t even bother to open its gates to let the poor take shelter,” the merchant began, but the harshness in his voice dissipated.  He toyed with his facial hair, dark eyes searching empty air for reason.  “Fortune in the snow, eh?  Perhaps it’s not so far-fetched.  They holed up in there for one reason or another…”

He settled back into his chair, hands on the table.  As Nanni collected her cards to put them back into her unfinished deck, the man watched her warily. “Do I get another question?” He asked her.

The sway of his body from leaning forward to sitting back had caught her eye.  There was something beneath his billowy white shirt and grey vest.  A shimmer about his nape made her wonder if the key he treasured so hung not entirely figuratively close to his heart… She tried to banish his prying eyes with a smile, her ears flicking back.  Inwardly, she pondered the time it would take to grab the knife in her shoe and fling it into his throat.  She was not as practiced as the lithe Katsumi, and could not guarantee the blade would hit the right spot with the swiftness needed to silence him.  Her brow furrowed and she tried to play it off as though she was concentrating on the cards.

“Ask away,” she said after giving the cards a shuffle.

“Where will I find love?” the merchant asked and it took every fiber of her being to restrain her own laughter.

She began to draw the first card but footsteps alerted her.  Instead, she paused and watched as the hulking roegadyn came into sight.  He had skin like dark fire, his hair braided back and his beard shaggy.  A scar ran over his eye and his mouth was turned in a permanent scowl.  He was clad in leather armor with a blade at his hip, curved and sharpened—bare outside of a scabbard.  His glare upon her was without a shred of mercy, sizing her up with a disgusted curl of his lip. 

“Sir,” spoke the Hellsguard with a deep voice that made the very bricks of the shop tremble. “Your meeting is within the hour.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” the merchant said with exasperation. “Just give me a moment to finish business here and I will be there momentarily.”

The Hellsguard stared at her longer, with a bitterness in his gaze.  He grunted, gave a curt nod, then walked away.  From the sound of his footsteps echoing in the hall, she predicted he was somewhere near the station of the lalafellin woman, and she found herself not able to breathe.  Accidentally rousing the Flames was one thing… but dealing with a merchant’s private guard was something else entirely.  She did not hold any mercy in her heart for the Hellsguard, but she found herself afraid at the aspect of angering him.  Flames were just boys that had been given fancy uniforms and swords, in her experience.  Bodyguards were trained muscle, ready to kill at a moment’s notice.

“Fear not, he won’t disturb us.  Now, care to draw your card?” the merchant asked impatiently. “Or perhaps you desire to answer in another way?”

Nanni was caught off-guard by his statement.  He moved like a viper, seizing her wrist in a flash and pinning it to the table top.  Instinctively, she pulled back but he pressed her skin further into the table. 

“Sire?” She dropped her accent, his hungry eyes bearing into hers.  The back of his hand bloodied her lip and she spat out a few droplets with surprise.

“Give me my gil back and I won’t gut you, girl,” his hot breath fluttered over her face and the vault key came out from its linen hiding place.  It sparkled and dangled before her, dancing suspended in the air.  She focused on it before his eyes, her stray hand dropping the card.  Its cover flashed red as the sun, the mark of her matron deity prominent on its design.

It was the Lady of Staves, dancing in fires unbound.

Her fingers found the hilt to her knife and suddenly the aspect of fighting the Hellsguard turned her blood to flames.  If that was what she had to do to ensure the mission was a success, then she would do it a hundred times over.  People were counting on her.  Asami was counting on her. 

“Okay… okay…” she did not pick the accent back up.  Blood reddened her teeth and she lapped it away with her tongue between statements. “I’ve got the gil here.” 

She gave him the tip of her knife across the bridge of his nose, his yowling waking the dead a mile around the gilded city of Ul’dah.  As he fell backwards, clutching his marred face, she leapt onto the table and grabbed the key, pulling it free from his neck.  Footsteps thundered in the hallways, loud as drums.  She kicked the merchant in the chin, sending him out of his chair.  By the time the Hellsguard had taken up the entirety of the doorframe, Nanni had sank her blade into the screaming merchant’s neck.

She turned to see the Hellsguard, a glob of blood dripping down her chin and sprinkling onto the stone floor.  He had his sword in hand but his gaze lingered onto the fresh corpse on the ground.   His blade went back into its belt and he beheld her with surprised eyes and a clenched jaw. 

“Preying on the weak doesn’t make people strong,” Nanni said to the Hellsguard.  With her wrist, she rubbed away the blood ebbing on her lip, smearing it across her face.  His bright eyes glared at her, calculating the scene as if trying to decide what his next course of action would be.  She almost missed the small lalafellin attendant behind him, trembling at the knees with wide eyes.

“Wanna scrap?” she dared the Hellsguard, adrenaline firing through her veins and her breath shuddering from the exhilaration. 

Their eyes locked and in that moment, V’nanni of the Order of Esper could see the man’s conflict.  There was the need to protect, as was ordered by the contract, but what use was there to protect a corpse?  She pulled the knife from the merchant’s flesh, hands trembling and fur bristling on her ears and tail.  The Hellsguard did not back down, but nor did he redraw his blade.  Instead, he drew in a deep breath, scenting the death and blood that stained the back room.

“The Flames will be here soon,” the bodyguard said with the shake of his head. “Take the key and go.  Ul’dah won’t miss his filth.”

“Thank you,” the miqo’te replied, returning her knife to its sheath.  She could not meet the eye of the attendant as she shook and sobbed on the floor.  Instead, her chin lifted, the miqo’te walked out of the door of the shop and into the basking, unrelenting sunlight.

Murmurs in the streets and glances tossed her way crawled over her skin like a myriad of beetles, but she tried to remain placid in demeanor.  She continued down the road, half-lidded eyes staring ever ahead.  Subtly between her fingers, spun a golden key—the salvation to many who lived in the streets as half-living skeletons and sunburnt victims of a greater evil.  Somewhere in the streets behind her, she heard someone yelling.  She heard someone crying.  She heard someone screaming.


End file.
